


The dawn of the heroes

by orphan_account



Series: Robbe and Sander getting on with it [1]
Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Actually requited, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Unrequited Love, it's so fluffy I'm gonna die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 06:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21239603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: or, how the first kiss ought to happen





	The dawn of the heroes

It was the final night of the beach party and everyone was determined to have a good time. So far it had been disappointing for everyone. For Robbe, of course, pining for the most unattainable but most perfect guy he had ever met. For the boys, who had barely seen any action since they had been here (though they were promised it). And of course, for Noor, who still hadn’t found an opportunity to get all the way with her boyfriend.  
  
The fire was going, the beers were chilling and someone had found a speaker and hooked up the tunes. By the side of the beach they were damn well determined to party even though it was cold and blowy. They had all deserved it after the disappointment of the week.  
  
And here they all were, making the most of it as if their lived depended on it. They were huddling together for warmth but also cracking out awkward little dance moves, trying to fight off the awkwardness. Apart from the couples dancing together, and Jens and Jana who were trying to look disinterested in each other by dancing over the top with each other - Robbe saw straight through that - the others were throwing shapes like mad.  
  
Robbe was trying to focus on dancing with Noor, but his eye was always caught by the flash of shaggy platinum-blonde hair lit up by the firelight. He knew it couldn’t be Zoe’s hair because there was only one person that caught his attention like that. He had walked into Robbe’s life nearly one week ago, but he’d come in like a bull into a china shop, managing to make such a mess in there, breaking things and causing chaos. Now Robbe didn’t know who he was, and felt empty looking at his mess of a life, and could only think about the one who caused it with his outlandish manner and gorgeous little face and the sparkle in his eyes. And Robbe was praying that he would come back, either to cause more chaos or fix it all up - it didn’t matter. He just wanted him.  
  
Robbe knew that now. He’d always known it, and thought he had felt it with Jens, and for a while he thought that Jens was the most perfect specimen he had ever met. That pout, that jaw, that hair. But Robbe could see now that was a shadow of what it really felt like. This was an ache, this burning desire, it made him hurt on the inside and made him feel sick. But as much as he ached he couldn’t help wanting more, to get closer, to experience the impossible. He was pining, but he kind of liked it. It was such exquisite pain.  
  
That’s why he couldn’t help looking over at Sander. Wishing against hope that he could swap places with Britt. He was feeding the fire inside himself, but it felt good, even though he knew it was impossible. Then Sander, for a moment, flicked his gaze up from his girlfriend to Robbe, and their eyes met like magnets. Robbe had to look away with a small gasp and a gulp.  
  
But Noor had noticed it and turned to see what had caused this reaction. Then she stared back at her boyfriend. “Unbelievable.” She spat out the word into his face and stormed off from the fire down to the beach.  
  
Robbe felt his body grow hot with fear. Had she worked it out? _I’m sure it wouldn’t be terrible for people to know in theory_, he thought, but no-one can know it was Sander after whom he lusted and whom he saw every time he closed his eyes. In a panic, he followed her down to the beach, trying to pick out her figure in the dark against the dunes. He couldn’t hear her steps in the sand but he could hear her furious sighs over the gentle lapping over the waves.  
  
“Noor, wait! Noor! Seriously Noor, stop! What is it? Noor!” He called and called again as her moonlit figure paced ahead of him. Suddenly she stopped and spun around.  
  
“Why are you following me, Robbe? Surely there’s someone else you’d much rather be talking to right now?” It was too dark to properly see her face but Robbe could tell her jaw was set in anger.  
  
“Noor, wait. You’ve got it all wrong!” Robbe pleaded, reaching out for her shoulder.  
  
But she pulled back. “Why are you even with me, Robbe? Do you even find me attractive?”  
“I do, of course I do!” Robbe knew he was sounding hysterical and unbelievable, but he had to put this out of her mind. “You’re the coolest girl I know!”  
  
Noor gave a contemptuous laugh. “Then why don’t you look at me? Why don’t you touch me? Why can’t you give me something?” She was shouting by now, enraged, and Robbe was really starting to get afraid. If she had these thoughts, what’s not to say she wouldn’t tell everyone - and Britt, she was her friend, and then - _he_’d know. But he can’t know. No-one can.  
  
“I’ve tried Noor, but it’s always been the timing! You know I…”  
  
“Timing my foot, Robbe!” She shouted over him sharply. “I’ve seen the way you look at her. I’ve seen it before and tonight was the last straw…” Slowly the recognition seeped into Robbe’s brain. Her. She thinks… Britt! It was all he could do not to laugh but he couldn’t help letting out a thankful sigh of relief. Noor was continuing, “…I know she’s beautiful, and cool, and funny. Don’t you think I haven’t thought about it myself? I would be the first to go there if…”  
  
“Noor, Noor, what are you talking about? Of course I don’t fancy Britt! If I did, don’t you think I would have done something about it by now?”  
“But it is in your eyes, Robbe. You don’t look at her like someone without feelings!”  
  
“Noor, it’s the middle of the fucking night. You can’t see a fucking thing and you still think you detect a lustful look in my eye?”  
  
“Don’t be stupid, Robbe. I’m not blind! You know what it is like, it was in our eyes at the party where we hooked up. Well, in my eyes, at least…”  
  
“Think what you want but it’s just in your head!” Robbe had turned angry himself now. She wasn’t letting this go and Robbe thought it was all a bit ridiculous. She started to protest but he cut her off. “Noor, I’m with you. I like _you_. Can’t you see how ridiculous you’re sounding? I’ve had enough of this. I’m going to get myself a beer and I suggest you chill off a bit before coming to find me.” Now it was his turn to stalk off, angry. They weren’t that far from the bunkhouse, which he realised as he neared it. And then he thought back to their raised voices. _Shit, they must have heard us shouting at each other._  
  
And this was confirmed as he walked up to the campfire to see everyone pretending not to notice him but slipping him subtle looks ranging from the curious (the boys) to the disgusted (the girls). Robbe kept his eyes down and pretended not to see, and determined not to notice the boy who had indirectly caused their fight.  
  
He got into the kitchen, inadvertently recalling the time he was in here with Sander, and thinking back to his outrageous flirting (he must have been flirting back, surely?). The recollection made that thing in his chest tighten all the more and for a moment he felt like he could cry. Then with a sigh he threw open the fridge and reached in for a beer.  
  
“Could you get me one while you’re in there?” Robbe was glad the fridge door hid his face from the owner of that voice as he was sure his face had flushed despite the cool of the fridge. Because he knew the owner of that voice. He pulled out another beer and closed the door to stare at the face he had carved into his memory over the past week.  
  
“Sure,” Robbe tested his voice for nonchalance. He wasn’t sure if it was convincing.  
  
“Hey, everything ok? We heard you guys shouting…” Sander begun looking intently and concernedly at Robbe, who had turned away to get the opener from the drawer behind.  
  
“Yeah, thanks.” Robbe cut him off just like he does when anyone tries to get him to open up about tricky relationships. Only this time it’s not just his parents, and the person he’s talking to isn’t just anyone.  
  
“Right. Look, I know you don’t really know me but would it help to talk about it?” Robbe rolled his eyes as he came and stood in front of him, snapping both their beers open. The proximity was intoxicating and confused and angered him even more. As Robbe turned to put the opener back, Sander continued, “You know, me and Britt have problems too. We fight a lot. Even more as of late. And sometimes it can help to talk it out.”  
  
Robbe slammed the drawer shut and stared him dead in those beautiful eyes. He spoke in a furiously calm voice. “Like fuck you would know. You don’t know shit about me or my problems.”  
  
Sander looked offended and Robbe instantly felt remorse for what he said, but he was beyond caring. He felt he’d put a real dent in his relationship with Noor just for the sake of this guy who had no fucking idea how much he meant to him. Now he didn’t give one if he ruined this relationship too. “Right,” said Sander again, taken aback. “I was just trying to be nice.”  
  
“Well fuck off and be nice to your fucking girlfriend. I don’t want you.” Robbe realised how much this sentence might have given away and quickly, angrily corrected himself. “I mean, I don’t need you.” That didn’t sound any better, in fact it seemed worse. Hating himself as well in a flush of anger he came and stood in front of Sander again, who didn’t move. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other and drinking in each other’s faces, maybe for the last time. The taller gazed confusedly at the shorter while the latter clenched his jaw. And then the moment was over. “Let me fucking past” muttered Robbe.  
  
Sander moved aside to let Robbe out of the narrow kitchen but not before he had already started marching out, brushing past the boy with the lightning hair and feeling those electric sparks as they touched once again. But this time it wasn’t a tingle of pleasure, but a shock of furious desire that coursed through him. The sooner he got rid of this one, the better.  
  
As he was walking back outside, he saw Britt heading his way. “Is Sander still in there? I wanted him to get me a beer too.” Robbe didn’t really listen to what she was saying but just muttered, “Yeah, think so,” as she ducked inside.  
  
Scanning around the people there, he didn’t feel like getting up to dance. Everyone was too concerned with each other and themselves to care about him, he thought. So he plonked himself on the sofa in front of the campfire, pulled up the blanket over himself, and stared into the fire, not caring what people thought of him. Or so he told himself.  
  
He thought back over the two fights he had just had. He felt sorry that Noor was angry with him, but the sorry he felt was more sort of obligatory, as if he knew he should be sorry for her but couldn’t feel it truly it in himself. Then there was Sander. He had followed Robbe in there to look after him. Sander, who was such a live wire and often unpredictable, cared about him, at least in that moment. And Robbe started thinking, realising what he should have already known before. That it wasn’t Sander’s fault that he was so beautiful that Robbe couldn’t get him out of his mind, that that smile blinded him every time it was sent his way. He realised that Sander was who he was, the cool, music-loving, explosive person that he was, and it wasn’t his fault that that exact combination made Robbe swoon every time they were together and made him feel ill. And Robbe realised that Sander never meant to burn his skin with each touch. That was Robbe imagining it all.  
  
He stared to feel a shameful remorse for how he had just treated him in the kitchen. For all that he said to himself he didn’t care about Sander, underneath Robbe’s desire for him was a genuine affection and it was this that prompted him to regret now. He realised that even if they were never together, he would much rather have him in his life as a friend, always painfully longing after him, than not have him in his life at all. And now he might have ruined it all. He thought for a moment, then leaned over to where Moyo’s phone was plugged into the speaker, and concentrating on the Spotify queue, he didn’t notice Britt and Sander return.  
  
But as he locked the phone and looked up, he saw Noor coming back from the beach. He knew he ought to talk to her and apologise for flaring up, and his eyes followed her walk past the party into the bunkhouse, much like he had done, only Noor’s face was streaked with shiny tears. Britt, seeing her, put her arm round her as their paths crossed and went back with her into the building to talk. Robbe noticed Sander glance across at the party, deciding who to dance with instead. Robbe, burning with shame, dropped his eyes, only to look up as with a whumpf someone landed next to him on the sofa.  
  
Robbe glanced up to his right and met the gaze of Sander. He could not deal with this. He had so much to say, so much to apologise for, and he didn’t know if Sander wanted to hear it, and if he did, where he could begin. What must Sander think of him now? He must know that Robbe likes him, he let that much slip, and must be furious and confused at his rudeness when all he had ever been was friendly towards him.  
  
But it was Sander who begun. He murmured, “give me some of that blanket, would you?” and the noise of the party and the music faded into irrelevance as Robbe tuned into his voice, his favourite channel.  
  
Robbe unfolded a bit with his free right hand and Sander took it and spread it across his own body, putting his beer down and stuffing his hands underneath. “It’s cold,” he said.  
  
Robbe released a deep sigh that felt heavy with his poisonous feelings. He leant back and allowed himself to look at Sander, who was leaning forward staring into the fire as Robbe had done. He told himself, gazing at his shoulders, his neck, mentally tracing lines all over his body, that he didn’t care if he never got to touch them now. But he could not lose this.  
  
“Sander,” he said, his voice back to normal now. It was the first time he had called him by his name and it felt at home in his mouth. Sander glanced over his shoulder and met his eyes. Robbe didn’t know where to begin but he had to start somewhere. “I…”  
  
But Sander’s look had changed from one of mild interest to one of rapture. Robbe was confused for a moment until he tuned into the song that was playing. Sander took a deep breath in and his eyes widened with glee, and he leant back alongside Robbe, closing his eyes and bobbing his head along with the beat.  
  
Then he turned and met Robbe’s gaze which hadn’t left his face. “Did you put this on?” he asked, and Robbe nodded. “I didn’t know you were a Bowie fan.”  
  
Robbe licked his lips and said softly, “I wanted to say sorry. I didn’t know how.”  
  
An amused and flattered grin flicked across Sander’s features. “You put this on for me?” He spoke in a soft voice that sounded like a secret just for the two of them. Robbe answered with a bashful blink downwards and a pull of his beer. He put his beer down too and pulled the blanket up over himself, and looked at the dancers who mostly recognised the tune and were loving the change from Moyo’s seemingly endless drum and bass playlist. Moyo himself shot Robbe a dirty look but seemed to forget all about it when Luca danced over to him, singing along.  
  
Just then, Robbe felt something touch his hand under the blanket. It wasn’t just something though. It was him. Robbe thought it must be accidental but didn’t like to pull away, after all now Sander knows he likes him he didn’t have to pretend like it didn’t mean anything to him. But then he felt the slight pressure on his little finger grow and expand, until it was all up the side of his hand. Robbe’s heart rate began to quicken as he dared not let himself believe what could be happening. It was just the tiniest of touches, accidental, he was sure. He stared ahead, not wanting to acknowledge the boy sitting next to him.  
  
But then the pressure was gone, but it was replaced with the tiniest fingertip, tracing up and down the side of his hand. This couldn’t be accidental. Robbe dared not believe it in case believing in it would make it not be true. The fingertip belonged to Sander’s little finger, which found Robbe’s own, slipping in and hooking itself around its mate. Here I am. Robbe felt sick. But a good, amazing, incredulous sick. The heat rose to his face, and it wasn’t from the fire. His breathing became short. He curled his own little finger back in response. It was such a tiny action, but it was huge to him, magnified by the week of longing and uncertainty and the possible promise of this amazing human unbelievably and incredibly maybe feeling the tiniest bit the same as he did.  
  
Sander’s hand moved imperceptibly slowly across his own, his fingers caterpillaring over his and climbing until he held all four. How long was this song going on? It seemed to be lasting forever, time had slowed and his world had narrowed until all he could see was the feeling of this boy’s hand holding his own. He hadn’t been listening but noticed the song swell as for the first time he risked a glimpse of the boy next to him. He sighed desperately and realised he had been holding his breath the whole time. He had believed he wouldn’t be there and that this was some sick dream, but one look back and he knew it was real. There he was. Sander. The pinnacle of all his crushes and his years of loneliness were met in this godlike figure, the solution. The answer to Robbe’s questions, the echo to his calls, the gravity pulling his dreams down to earth and into reality. Here he was. He was here. For him.  
  
Robbe tried to speak but his voice came out in a croak. “Shh,” Sander whispered, though Robbe heard it somewhere deep inside him. “Just listen.”  
  
And the words came pouring over the barriers in his mind as he looked into a face he already knew so well.  
  
I, I will be king,  
And you, you will be queen,  
Though nothing will drive them away,  
We can be Heroes, just for one day,  
We can be us, just for one day…  
  
And suddenly it was too much for Robbe. It had to be too good to be true. This was too much emotion. Too much. He felt full. He felt like he was going to burst, or be sick, and he knew this moment had to end, and he couldn’t face it being over, cause nothing felt as real as this moment right now, nothing could ever be so true or so perfect again. He wanted to die and keep it forever but it had to end before he did. He felt scared and overwhelmed and overcome. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, barely audible, his breath coming thick and fast. “I can’t.”  
  
And with that he pulled away from the happiest moment in his life, awkward, jerky, pulling out of the hand underneath the blanket, standing up, all in a daze, he couldn’t quite see or feel anything around him, because he had just been in the wrong world and this one didn’t feel real anymore. He looked around, people still dancing, oblivious. He was hot all over and shaking as he made off for the beach, wanting to cool himself off or drown in the sea.  
  
He was staggering, bewildered, to the water when he felt a hand clap on his shoulder. “Where are you going? Did I do something wrong?” Nothing felt real anymore. He stood but continued looking forward as Sander walked round to face him.  
  
“No. Sander. No. But - I can’t. I just can’t.”  
  
“Why not? Is it Noor? Britt? Robbe, those are other people now. This is us. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it too.”  
  
“Sander. It can’t be, not for me. Not you.”  
  
“Do you not want me? Cause that is not the impression I got just now. I had been doubting myself this whole week, distancing myself, telling myself that Saturday wasn’t real. Until the kitchen just now.”  
  
Robbe couldn’t believe what he was hearing. But this was too much. He couldn’t cope. He felt his whole body screaming.  
  
“Sander. You…? But… I…” He gulped and dared once more to look into those eyes he so often lost himself in, now full of an angry passion, searching, scanning his face. Finally Robbe managed, “Me…?”  
  
Sander sighed a laugh, and began saying the word “You,” which started in the gentlest tones and ended with the gentlest touch of his lips on Robbe’s.  
  
Robbe felt his body stop screaming and the most delicate calm settle over his churned up thoughts. This. This was right. He could believe it now. This was life. Now. Him. And Sander. Together. It made so much sense.  
  
Sander drew back, his hand still on Robbe’s cheek where he had moved it. He looked anxiously at Robbe, waiting for his reply.  
  
Robbe’s reply was instinctive as he moved forward and crashed his lips onto Sander’s like a wave upon the shore next to them, artless and naive but full of passion. He felt so sure all of a sudden, it had all been confirmed, and everything felt so right, and he wasn’t worried it would be over because as soon as one kiss ended another one began. Barely snatching breaths, they held each other tight, feeding one another with their love, though they wouldn’t realise that’s what it was just yet. Lips, hands searching, probing and testing one another, letting one another know they would be there for them as long as they needed.  
  
They stayed like that forever. Which by human standards was about four minutes, until Robbe rested his head on Sander’s chest as he held him. If either of them had spoken, they would have said, it’s ok, I’m here now. And I’m not going away. But they both knew that. They were heroes, flying over everyone else.  
  
In a minute, they would have to go back to the party before people got suspicious. They would have to go back to their girlfriends. And tomorrow, they would have to go back to their lives, and work it all out all over again. But for now, let them stand here, together at last, so pure and full of love.


End file.
